


curiosity killed the cat

by switchblade



Category: The Last of Us
Genre: Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, traumas a bitch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2018-04-11
Packaged: 2019-04-21 08:52:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14281371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/switchblade/pseuds/switchblade
Summary: "She continued to stare at the smoking ash, “Oh, that’s cool.” she said. Her eyes didn't move from the burned area, and her fingers toyed with a charm she had clipped to her backpack beside her.  He waited for her to press on, to ask about birthday parties or presents, but nothing came. The room fell back into silence."Ellie's a lot quieter after the winter, and Joel takes notice.





	curiosity killed the cat

**Author's Note:**

> ellie being quiet in spring makes me feel sad af

“Joel?”

Switching the safety on, Joel set down his freshly reloaded revolver next to his backpack. “Hm?” he responded, and with a slight groan he sat down on stiff ground. It was a shack they’d found, a few ways away from the main building it had originally belonged to. Neither building was necessarily “up to code” - the aforementioned main home being nothing but ruins after what seemed to be a raid fire, and the shack itself wasn't very spacious or inviting. It had been cold the previous night though, and uncomfortable shelter was better than none.

“You need something?” He asked.

Ellie sat a few feet in front of him, back resting along one of the walls, eyes fixated on the bits of smoke still flaking from what was left of the small fire they’d made to warm up some breakfast. Her foot absentmindedly tapped the end of a flowering pot in front of her; the shack’s owner seemed to have been a gardener in the past. One of Joel’s eyebrows rose a bit at the young girl’s lack of communication, and he was about to prod a bit - maybe ask is everything’s alright, when she cleared her throat.

“When’s your birthday?”

The question took him off guard needless to say.

This happened sometimes. Ellie would ask something that would catch him off guard - tiny, insignificant things, things no adult cared or payed attention to - and it would be a small and uncomfortable resurfacing of feelings he had been trying desperately to suppress for the past two decades. Questions like, “What’s the longest you’ve held your breath for?” or “What’s your favorite type of vegetable?” had him only giving noncommittal grunts as responses, taking his time to form answers to them. Subconsciously, he wondered if it was an attempt to get her to stop.

If you had asked him around 2 months ago why he reacted the way he did, he would’ve put up walls. Told you that he couldn’t give less of a shit about her childish wondering. The kid needed to be escorted, taken where she needed to be, then left to do whatever kids did nowadays. She could have her naive questions answered through a textbook if she was so desperate for a response.

Joel can’t exactly say he’s interacted with many children over the past few years - if anything, he’s practically avoided them - so he has no metric to compare her to, but it was a peculiar thing about Ellie nonetheless. She was persistent. No matter how bland, how delayed, how uninterested he was in his responses, it never stopped her. She continued to ask her questions, to make obvious observations, to laugh and giggle and make dumb jokes and do stupid things like walk on ledges and-

It got a little much sometimes. Once in a while, it’s almost like he could swap out the two. It didn’t help that they were around the same age, that they both had that the same sparkle in their eyes as they got excited, and did a little hop when they got enthusiastic.

2 months ago, Joel would’ve dammed up and stored his emotions away for a long winter, but now it was as if this little girl had found his biggest, mostly badly dressed wound and made a home inside it, breaking it open all over again. Nowadays, he entertains her questions with a bit more enthusiasm. Just a bit.

He coughed, “It’s uh...It’s September 26.”

She continued to stare at the smoking ash, “Oh, that’s cool.” she said. Her eyes didn't move from the burned area, and her fingers toyed with a charm she had clipped to her backpack beside her. He waited for her to press on, to ask about birthday parties or presents, but nothing came. The room fell back into silence.

Joel stared at her, a bit of worry beginning to creep into his mind. Winter was breaking into spring, the snow finally melting and the birds starting to chirp again, but over the past week or so it had been becoming noticeable. Ellie no longer asked as many questions, hell she hardly spoke at all. Sure she still wondered aloud - it was practically programmed into her hyperactive brain - but overall she seemed to have just… stopped. That same glimmer in her eye that he had taken deep notice of had left her entirely.

Joel wasn’t around much for her during the blizzard, which he hated and will continue to hate himself forever for. From what he’s gleamed of her shut up and one worded responses, and the sight he walked into that day in the lodge, it wasn’t difficult for him to put two and two together as to what might’ve occurred. It shattered his heart and filled him with more rage than any previous displays of aggression combined.

Now, she was quiet almost all the time. As he had bundled up her face with garments to protect from the snow’s harsh reflection, and as he attempted to carry her on his back through the slush, her only response was, “Please don’t, you’re going to hurt yourself. Please. Please don’t do that.” and through the bundles across her face he could see her eyes swimming with fresh tears. As much as it pained him, she walked alongside next to him, her tiny legs trudging through the half frozen mush.

She was more assertive now. Not so much verbally, but more in her actions. Instead of drawing objects in the dirt with sticks as she would’ve done previously, she’d join in and help find more firewood instead. She skinned her own catches and lit the fires herself when Joel was being too slow. There were no more stories by the fire, unless they were initiated by Joel.

Any other adult would’ve said she’d “grown up”, but Joel knew what this was. He didn’t spend time around children for longer than he needed to, but he knew one thing that had come to pass in the fucked up place the world had become: childhood was currency. The quicker you are to spend it - whether it’s by choice or by force - determines how long you’ll remain.

For this girl - this 14 year old, still baby faced, pun loving child - it had not just been forced from her, but it had been grabbed, ripped from her hands, and torn to shreds in front of her. The horrors of what took place rerouted her brain into an autopilot. Survival first, jokes never.

These thoughts ran through Joel’s brain as he watched her zone out, the backpack charm falling limp in her hands. His leg began to bounce; the silence was uncomfortable, it wasn’t right. She should be bubbly, joking about his old age or some shit. She shouldn’t be so damn quiet. It was wrong. He coughed again, and asked, “So, when’s yours? You’ve never told me any date or month or nothin’.”

She scoffed, and for a moment a smile crept onto her face, “I don’t know.”

“...You don’t know your birthday?”

She shrugged, “Wasn’t important to the school I suppose. Not all that surprising really, plenty of kids show up without papers. Besides,” She stretched her legs a little, “it’s not like we were ever gonna have parties for each other or shit. It was more of a “If you know it, congrats” sort of deal.” Her eyes drifted away from the pile of ash to stare at the melting snow outside. “Just something I forgot to ask Marlene I suppose.” she added.

Joel smiled slightly, and rested his head against the wall behind him. “Well,” he began, “when all of this business is done and over with, we’ll make sure to ask Marlene. Then, I’m gonna make you a birthday cake.”

She snapped back to look at him, “...How?”

He shrugged, “Dunno. But I’ll come up with somethin’. How old do you think you’re becoming now, 15?” She nodded, a smile slipping onto her face. He chuckled, “Christ you’re getting old.”

She stuck her tongue out at him and asked, “Do you even know how to make a cake?”

“Nope.”

She prodded on, “What about the ingredients? Where ya gonna get those?”

“I’ll find ‘em somewhere.”

“Are you talkin’ out your ass?”

“Hell no.”

As the questions poured out of her mouth, Joel’s smile grew. That liveliness was going to be given back to her, he was going to make sure. No matter how long it took.


End file.
